Page 19 of A Banh Mi for Two
Chú Hai sets down his plastic bag and takes a seat next to me. He digs into the plastic bag and hands me a bánh patê sô. They are Ba’s favorite, and mine.
I take a bite. The pork pastry immediately melts into my taste buds with its rich and salty flavor, while the flakes smear across my lips. “Yup. I’ll need baguettes from you for the next fifty or sixty years.”
“You know, we used to do this all the time, come to this spot. Me and your dad. This was our secret place.”
“I didn’t know that.” It makes sense, Ba was the one who showed me this rooftop.
With the mention of Ba comes that familiar aching feeling settling over me, and the buttery pastry suddenly feels dry on my tongue. Aside from Má and me, the Lê family probably misses Ba the most. Ba went to school with everyone, and Chú Hai was his best friend. Even though Chú Hai’s name is Bình, Ba and he were so close that I just call him Chú Hai—honorific for the eldest son and, in my case, uncle. When Ba passed, the neighbors showered me and Má with food, fruits, and even money they could hardly afford to give away. We weren’t the only ones grieving—so was the entire community.
“We also used to sneak into the schoolyard at night with a vintage telescope so old that it was hardly usable. I had no idea where your dad got it from. Everyone knows that he loved literature, but the stars fascinated him the most. He would ramble on and on about the world beyond us. It seemed so unimportant to me at the time because it wasn’t like we could do it. Go to space, I mean. Our dreams were on the ground.”
My head suddenly feels heavy, so I rub my temple, my back finding the comfort of the concrete as I continue to look at the skyline with Chú Hai. “I remember Ba would look at everything in the sky and point it out to me.”
Chú Hai chuckles, taking a bite of his own bánh patê sô. He wipes his hand and lies down next to me. “I can still remember the day that you were born. Your dad ran into the bakery teary with the biggest smile on his face. He said that the star that he had been searching for is here. That you were the brightest star of his life.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Unable to say anything, I just let them fall. I concentrate on the sun, the chirping birds, and the loud city. No matter how many stories everyone tells me about Ba, he’s still gone. I only have Má, and with just the two of us, she needs me more than anyone ever knows.
“Whenever you’re ready, Lan,” he breaks the silence. “Come grab the books your dad wanted you to have. Only if you’re ready.”
Ba had a lot of books, so many that he started storing some at Chú Hai’s place as an extra library. I was supposed to pick up these books years ago, but I’ve found every excuse not to. Too busy tending the stall, not enough time, me being forgetful—I know Chú Hai knows they’re all lies. Shame glooms over me, what a simple task that I can’t bring myself to do. I do want the books; to hold them, feel their weight, and read the notes Ba left behind.
But I’m not ready, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.
Dusting off the dirt on my pants, I sigh and stand up as I swallow the last bite of the bánh patê sô and all the grief in my throat. “Thanks. I’ll remember this time.”
Waving goodbye to Chú Hai, I finally stop by the bakery before racing to the bánh mì stall with the baguettes. To make matters worse, Tri?t hands me the wrong smoothie order. “This isn’t mango.”
He rolls his eyes and throws a towel at me to clean the plastic tables. “Mango, pineapple, whatever. Same thing. They’re both yellow and fruit.”
“Are you kidding me? Top of your class with this mentality?”
“Come on. You know I panic easily. I just pointed to the first yellow thing I saw. Forgive me?”
It’s true. That’s why I’m the one that takes orders. “How are things… with college?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “First time you’re asking me about college.”
“Sorry. I should try to ask you about these things more.”
“I’m kidding. Thanks for asking anyway.” He shrugs and helps me untie the plastic notch. “Still getting rejected from internships and the exams are going to kick my butt. It can only go up from here, right?”
“Guess so. Ready?” I ask, already spying the incoming tide of customers. Soon, the line will wrap around the neighborhood.
“More than ready. Let’s give them the best bánh mì in Sài Gòn.”
Bánh Mì 98 was always our family’s. Ba’s parents ran it. His parents’ parents ran it. A small street food stand in the heart of Sài Gòn. When Ba took over, people raved all across the city and Bánh Mì 98 became synonymous with him and his food.
Ba loved trying new things. We’d wake up every weekend to the smell of fresh baguettes and something savory, and he’d tell us what the experiment was for the day. Bánh xèo in a bánh mì. Bánh mì with ph? noodles. Sometimes he’d even make American food with a Vietnamese twist, like cá viên chiên on pizza with bánh mì as the crust. Má liked his inventions, but I loved them. He showed me that things were possible, limitless, and his love for food kept us going. Now we wake up to a lonely house with no smell of baguettes.
Tri?t nudges me. “Isn’t that the girl that asked for your name?”
I jerk my gaze to the American girl near the back of the line. Our eyes meet for a second before I turn away. “How did you know that?”
“Good hearing. Got it from working and studying right here. So, what’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on.”
He picks at a piece of th?t nu?ng before eating it. “Considering you don’t have any friends, that’s a big deal.”
